Worth A Thousand Words
by Peter the Muggle
Summary: A small misunderstanding between Mary, Dante, Trish and Eva's picture. Oneshot, set shortly after DMC1.


A/N: 'Sup peeps! I've been running through a real dry spell here for quite a while now. Not that I'm not having ideas, but I'm just too damned lazy to get 'em off the ground! Curiosity and Compensation is going no-where so I'm thinking of handing it over to someone for completion. Think of this little one-shot here as my sincere apology.

Soft, serene eyes twinkled at Mary from the framed photograph.

And, as silly as it felt, the young woman failed to resist scowling at the blonde woman in the photograph.

It had been ten years since Temen-ni-gru.

Ten years since she met the sons of Sparda. Yet, here she was, acting like a jealous…

"…_.girlfriend?",_ was her first thought. The thing was, she knew that she had no right to claim anything.

Ten years of almost no communication whatsoever; Dante had apologized for that immediately but she neglected to mention that the guilt was mutual. She didn't exactly send any postcards either. And what would she send anyway?

That things went almost exactly the way she said it would? That she still killed every evil thing that went her way?

She wasn't exactly there for him during those ten years.

Apparently, during that time, this Trish was.

Meeting Trish for the first time was strange. She smiled and laughed and even teased Mary for looking like a school girl (She gritted her teeth at the memory).

But as normal and human-like as Trish was, she just….wasn't.

She looked like a beautiful human woman but the way she moved and walked set a lot of alarms off. To Mary's trained eyes, Trish moved like an animal waiting to pounce.

It explained a lot when Dante had said that Trish was a demon.

It took a lot to get Mary to trust a half-demon. A pure hellspawn like Trish was about as trustworthy as a shark among seals.

Strangely, it wasn't the fact that Trish was a demon that pissed Mary off; it was the way she moved around Dante; the way she dressed around him.

She slinked and slid like a snake; with uncanny familiarity, like she was a part of the household.

She wore a top that looked more like a tight, leather tube akin to what "women of the night" worked in.

"Like a killer hooker.", she snorted. Mary wanted to knock her head on the wall.

Taking mental potshots at someone when there was no one to hear.

"I shouldn't have quit smoking…", she muttered.

But what pissed her off the most was that Dante didn't seem to mind at all

He smiled and laughed while Trish slid and slithered.

And so Mary sulked.

It killed her and made her feel every bit a school girl as Trish had said.

Mary couldn't blame him though. Unlike her, Dante was strong both in mind and in body.

Not getting any for ten years would probably make anybody explode.

Or, in her case up until a couple of months ago, take up smoking.

Of course he would move on. Not that he ever really moved in the first place. Having a mutual desire to kill family members gone amok wasn't exactly the best thing to base a relationship on.

What would she say if people asked?

"_Oh, he wanted to kill his brother and I wanted to kill my father! Isn't it romantic?"_

She looked at Trish's picture on Dante's desk again.

The blonde was dressed quite a bit differently in the photograph. She wore a red dress robe and a black turtle-neck from what she could see. A calm smile was on her face, giving an impression of refinement and even humanity.

Mary sighed bitterly. As hard as she tried, there was just no denying that Trish was beautiful.

She could call Trish any number of things; whore, tramp, demon-whore, hell-tramp. But the fact was that Trish was there for Dante while she wasn't.

And she couldn't take that away from her.

"Hey, Lady."

Mary's train of thought broke at the familiar voice. She looked up and saw Dante smiling at her. He was carrying a bottle of soda and a large box containing what was sure to be a pizza.

"We're having dinner soon." He raised the box and soda to indicate their purpose.

Mary almost drew blood from biting her lip. Should she ask him?

Of course she should. Why not?

"_Because it's so blatantly obvious."_

It wasn't a sure thing though!

_"Please. Why would you care anyway?"_

The voice, which had started out as her own, had morphed into the blonde demon's silky tone.

Mary couldn't hold it any longer.

"Are you and Trish…..?" She made several gestures with her hands to indicate words that she had trouble saying.

Dante stopped setting the table and looked puzzled for a moment.

He let out a small chuckle. He got it.

"What ever gave you that idea?" He had a wide grin on his face and one eyebrow was raised.

Mary was not amused at all, however. How dare this bastard have the gall to deny it!

He had a goddamned picture of her on his desk!

BANG!

Mary stalked off growling.

Dante stared at the ceiling as the gunshot wound healed.

"She doesn't see me for ten years. She chooses THAT time of the month to visit?", he muttered idly.

**END**


End file.
